Gypsy's Curse
by QueenieMeanie
Summary: Sequel to Gypsy - "The Professor was wrong. Being an Empath isn't a gift. It's a curse. And I'm not gonna let this kill me."
1. Scars on The Soul

**Story Title: **Gypsy's Curse

**Summary: **After the events of Alkali Lake, Carolina is still suffering from aftershocks caused by Dark Cerebro. And while Wolverine, Storm and her friends strive to keep her sanity in check, Professor Xavier begins to teach her how to control her growing powers, but with the possibility of a cure on the horizon Carolina must choose whether to keep her power of empathy and give up a life she's always known for one that she's always wanted but could never have.

**Warnings: **This story is rated for language and violence.

**Genres: **Angst/Drama/Romance

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the X-Men, I would be the happiest person alive. Seriously. Because if I did, I'd have a character modeled after me and she'd be having a happy little affair with a certain pyromaniac.

**Author's Note: **So - here it is! It's been a long time coming, I know, sorry to have kept you guys waiting for so long. I was busy re-writing/editing **Gypsy** because I realized that there were a lot of things that I didn't add and needed to tighten up. I hope that you all enjoyed the new version and also enjoy this fic as well. A lot of things will become clear. Big thanks to those who have followed the story here and I hope that you'll review. Please review. It's my drug, my healthy drug lol. Anyway, enjoy!

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**Chapter One:  
**Scars on The Soul

* * *

"_Hmm. It's nice out, isn't it_?" asked a tangled and distorted voice, sounding content.

I barely reacted to the sound of the voice, hardly acknowledged the question it asked. I wasn't at all surprised or even startled by the fact that that I was hearing voices - no, that's wrong. Not voices with an 's'. No 's'. It was only one voice. One. Voice. Or, V as I preferred to call, whatever, whoever it was speaking to me - in my head, that most people wouldn't, shouldn't, couldn't.

Sighing, I reached up and scratched the back of my head with blunt nails, mindful of the scars even though the stitches had been removed along time ago and faded, - guessed that old habits died hard - and bent my legs, hugging them to my chest as I stared at the glimmering pool water.

I was outside of the school - Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, which appeared to look like any other typical private school on the outside as much as it did on the inside. The only thing that was really different were the students, who possessed abilities unimaginable - sitting outside beside the pool and occasionally looking up at the sky to watch the clouds and birds when I got bored.

I liked being outside, though. I felt… free whenever I was outside, where there were no walls, not really, to suffocate me and I could… breathe. "It is a nice day," I agreed, chewing on the inside of my cheek and, in the background, loud noise caught my attention.

I turned my head slightly towards its direction.

The noise I'd heard was laughter, bubbly and fully of life, it made me want to laugh too, and it was coming from a small group of boys, who were running and tossing around a football. I recognized most of them, seen some in passing and spoken to quite a few, but only one turned to look in my direction and when he did, I saw a bright smile appear on his, reddening, sweaty face when he did a double take.

The look of surprise on his face was unmistakable as he pushed his glass back to keep them from sliding all the way down his nose (I had to give him credit for being able to keep them on while playing) and wiped the side of his face with the back of his hand. "Carrie!" He called out, still smiling and now waving.

Something in me swelled. He was genuinely happy to see me out and about. I was too.

Half smiling, I allowed myself to look away from Jones, for a second, to look at the other boys who had noticed the younger boy's sudden lack of interest and had stopped to stare. I realized that they hadn't expected me to be out either. And, instead of being embarrassed, I raised my head and hand to wave. "Hey, Jones. Boys!" I greeted with a small smile on my face.

The other boys waved back and soon started nudging and punching Jones lightly on his shoulder and gut, teasing him and finally they went back to their game.

I watched them play for a while, finding that it was more entertaining then watching clouds and birds.

Jones had grown since the first time I met him. Not by much, really, but he'd gotten a lot taller and lost some of the baby fat in his cheeks. He was still the same smart-ass kid from before, don't get me wrong, but he was tolerable and reminded me of someone I use to know….

_God_, it felt like such a long time ago that we'd met, that night in the living room with him changing the channels with a blink of his eyes and my grumbling stomach.

The night everything went to hell.

"_It does feel like forever ago, doesn't it_?"

I frowned, suddenly, turning my attention from the fun loving boys and back to the pool water. I rested my cheek against my knee and, after awhile, closed my eyes. Behind closed lids, I could almost see the events taking place as if it were a movie stuck on repeat.

Despite my trouble remembering things like names, or what have you, I remembered the night I lost my family to the same fire that took my home and gave me a phobia.

To this day, I still haven't figured out how it happened….

I remembered wandering in daze after, lost and alone for some time and being found by a woman and her husband, Gwen and Owen, who then took care of me. I also remember leaving them, the people who I had considered my new family after mine had gone and passed. I tried not to dwell much when it came to my family, it hurt too much to think of the only surviving members of my family - Dad. Callisto. - not being with me and hating each other. I did, however, wonder whether they knew of Irene, Michael and mom's death….

I pushed the thought away just as a headache started to form and my mind wandered back to Owen and Gwen. I honestly believed that I had left them for their own good. Who knew what they would have done if they'd found out I was a runaway mutant, hiding and being pursued by bad people. I didn't like thinking about that either but that didn't stop me from wondering how they were and if they missed me as much as I missed them.

Probably not, I decided with a heavy heart and I sigh, and that was okay. Sort of. No, not really. Of course it wasn't okay. It broke my heart to think that they didn't think about me at all, or cared that I had just up and left… I wondered if they even tried to look.

I wished that I had gotten the chance to say goodbye, thanked them for their hospitality, nursing me back to health and told them that I'd always be grateful. I would have done it too, instead of leaving as abruptly as I did, but I hadn't counted on Stryker finding me or that he'd recruit Ben and Dan to do his dirty work and capture me for him.

Sometimes I wondered about them too - Ben and Dan -, wondered what they were doing, if they got caught or turned themselves in out of guilt. Or had they gotten away with it, just like Ben had predicted? Had no one noticed that I had suddenly vanished without a trace?

Probably, I decided, nodding inwardly, because there was _no way _Dan would have turned himself in. Of course not. He'd felt guilty, yes, but he had also been given a scholarship to some school. It was hard to forget that piece of information. The fearing of losing it was almost as strong as the one going to jail, maybe even more. No, he wouldn't have thrown that away for me. Ben wouldn't have let him, not in a million years.

_Ben_, I thought darkly, feeling an unusual amount of anger in me. I could feel my body stiffening at the mere thought of him - speaking, touching, _breathing_. I shuddered, hugging my knees closer to my body.

What he had done - what he had almost done. _God I didn't even like thinking about it. _I would never be able to forgive him, at least, not in this life, or the next. Before him I had never met anyone so selfish, so uncaring, so inhuman, so like… _dad, _who (even though had turned his back on us_, his family_ and treated me and Callisto like shit, I still missed him. Because he was my dad, my blood.) had turned me in so easily because I had been a - a - a _freak _to him

He'd hurt me so badly, emotionally above all else, because the scars on a person's soul never really faded as appose to the ones on the flesh.

I backtracked and rolled my eyes. Since when had I become so philosophical?

"_Since you had to grow up faster than you were suppose to_," V replied, even though I hadn't really meant for It to answer my question.

But, even though I wanted to hate them - Ben and my Dad - a part of me, the sick, twisted part of me - thanked them. Because without them, I would have never found my way to Mr. Logan -

No, it was just Logan, now, I reminded myself. No mister. Just Logan.

Meeting Logan, my knight in not so shinning armor, full of flaws and kinks, was both good and bad, though the good weighed out the bad by, well, a lot. He had found and saved me, took care of me in his own way and took me to a school where there were others like me, mutants, protected from the outside world.

And though I had arrived scared and hurt, covered in bruises, cuts and dry blood on my torn clothes, walking through those doors, I felt at home. Yes, the stares and whispers bothered me but nothing could shake the feeling of being home. And I had Logan to thank for that, the man with the strange hair.

The lost man, I liked to call him in my head.

He'd done good in bringing me, but as much as it was good it was also bad.

Shortly after arriving, the school had been attacked by men working for Stryker, the man who had made a few years of my life like hell, and a few kids had been taken from their beds, drugged into a deep sleep.

Sometimes, I could still hear them screaming, still feel their fear and confusion.

I had seen many people, the men working for Stryker, being killed and barely managed to escape captivity with the help of Logan and a few others. In the end, after surviving them, the police, being shot out of the sky, rescued by two unlikely heroes and being assaulted by an unseen force that nearly broke me, the kids were rescued… but at a cost.

Although, losing one life seemed more appealing to others than losing a dozen, most of which had been children who had barely started living, it really wasn't. I understand why she did it though - she had just wanted to give us a chance to live.

Sure, I had made new friends…

Bobby. Marie. Kitty. Piotr and countless others.

… but I had also lost quite a few as well…

Dr. Grey. John. Mr. Wagner….

Of course, losing Dr. Grey was just about the hardest thing. She was the only one out of the three to be taken, lost to death. She had given her life to save the rest of ours and was dragged underneath the raging waters. And, even though she had died a long time ago, she lingered. The grief of losing her was still as strong as the day she died in some of us. It had hurt - losing her. She had been the first person to look into my head and really see me without judgment. The first person who had promised to help me with my problems… but then died.

"_Time heals all wounds_," V commented, carefully.

Eyes still closed, I nearly cracked a smile and teasingly muttered, "Fortune cookie," to the voice in my head and, when I inhaled through my nose, I found it stuffy. I sniffed again, and finally realized that I had been crying.

I wiped my face, eyes still closed, with the back of my hand.

I barely cried anymore - the months after Dr. Grey's death had been the hardest, could barely walk anywhere without bursting into tears because of someone else's sadness. I could barely be around those who were closes to her - Ms. Munroe. The Professor (though he'd been able to block some of his emotions from me, some leaked out). A few students. And Mr. Summers. He was the worse, his mind often wandered back to the day of her death.

I hated thinking about that day. Not only had we lost Dr. Grey, we'd also lost John, Pyro. He hadn't been lost to death, though. No, he'd given in to the darker side. I still thought about him too, sometimes, wondered where he was and what he was about to. Though, it was never much of a mystery because it seemed that Logan and the X-Men had crossed paths with the Pyromaniac on more than one occasion and he had, indeed, turned in back on us. On me.

That broke my heart too.

"_Things happen for a reason, you know_?"

I didn't reply. Though I wanted to say that not everything happened for a reason. That was just something some poor soul made up to make themselves feel better --

Feeling a sudden rush of anger and sadness in me, I groaned, breaking away from my thoughts. It wasn't mine, that much I could tell, but it sure as hell was familiar.

With my eyes opened, I narrowed them and brought my hands up to my head as though it would help to block out the invading emotions. It didn't.

I scrambled to my feet, mindful of my movements, and began to look around, frantically. There was no one around. Weird, I thought.

"_Just breathe, Gyps_." V encouraged and I fought to tell It to shut the hell up, I didn't need words of encouragement. I didn't need anyone! "_It's okay. It'll pass - it always does_."

I cursed. "I. Just. Wanted. Some quiet," I cried and I could feel myself twisting as I willed the feelings away, but they wouldn't.

I just wanted some quiet.

It's all I wanted - quiet.

My eyes landed on the glittering water of the pool and I stopped my frantic search. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should…. The throbbing of my head clouded my judgment and, without even realizing it, my feet had already left the concrete.

"Carrie, no!" Someone shouted from somewhere behind me, but it was to late. I had already fallen in with a splash.

It had been desperate, I thought, but there was something about water that just seemed to numb everything, slowed things down in a way that made me feel free. If I could grow gills, I would.

Ignoring the freezing water and the sting of chlorine, I managed to open my eyes just in time to see bubbles escaping my lips and allowed myself to sink all the way to the bottom of the pool. I looked around, my eyes fluttering, fighting to stay open. The water seemed to have washed away all the invading emotions, I almost sighed in relief.

And, even thought I had only been underwater water for a few seconds, my lungs were already burning, begging me to breathe, but I wasn't ready to resurface. Couldn't give up the quiet.

Looking up, I could see the blurry images of someone standing over the water and could hear the muffled sound of a voices. Or was it more?

I shook my head slightly, my hair flowing and bubbles rising to the top.

I should go up.

But I wouldn't.

Not now. No.

The quiet was just too nice to give up.


	2. Not Too Far Gone

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry about the late update! I've spent the last couple of months putting a lot of time and effort into school, and pushed aside my writing, which sucked for me and missed terribly. Also, my computer isnt cooperating with me these days, which also added to the list of why I couldnt update. But thanks so much to those who reviewed - they mean a lot to me, and I hope that you'll continue! So, please enjoy the chapter. It's in 3rd person, and you'll see why as you read. Thanks and enjoy!

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**Chapter Two:****  
**[Not] Too Far Gone

* * *

_- **Past**-_

_A year and a half ago  
__Three weeks after Alkali Lake._

_---------_

"The damage Dark Cerebro has inflicted on Carolina's mind is far more severe than I thought," Professor Charles Xavier began with his explanation, wheelchair facing the balcony window in his office. In its reflection Logan and Ororo Munroe stood behind him, listening intently. He continued on, "It is as if someone has opened a door, one that, for all purposes, should remain closed to protect her from unwanted thoughts, emotions --."

Logan cut him off, summing it up, from his perspective, "She can feel everything all the time now."

"Precisely," Xavier nodded, turning his chair around to face his colleagues.

Ororo was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with her hands clasped together on her lap. Logan was half sitting, half leaning on the arm rest beside her with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes never leaving the other man's. Both waited quietly, one a little more impatient than the other, for him to continue his explanation on Gypsy's condition.

"As you both know, Cerebro was created to enable the user, in this case, myself, to detect traces of other mutants worldwide and link me to them, in a way." He paused for a moment, studying their serious faces. "If I were to concentrate hard enough, it could kill them and, as you remember -" he grimaced, casting his eyes down for a moment, "- I almost did. And because Carolina posses the ability of Empathy, being able to connect with others easily, her pain was amplified to a degree which should have killed her instantly. Thankfully, that was not the case, but, sadly, it has altered her mind, and, now, she feels everything."

Ororo and Logan remained silent for quite some time, digesting the information that they had just been given. It was Ororo, however, who spoke up first. "Is there anything that can be done for her?" She inquired, hope lacing her words. Her heart when out to the young mutant. No one should have to bear the emotions of others, especially now when everyone was at their lowest.

"For the moment - no," he said, sounding regretful. "All we can do now is… keep her as comfortable as possible, make sure she has what she needs. Train her to control her abilities, and hope for the best."

Logan raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "That's it?" His eyes narrowed at the man in front of him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The kid spends half her time cryin' hysterically, curled up in a ball somewhere in her room and spends the other half sick or passed out from exhaustion and hoping for the best is all you can come up with?" He asked, looking sarcastically amused. "You're losing your touch, Chuck."

"Logan," the white-haired woman began, softly, her tone warning, but it fell on death ears.

His attention was elsewhere now, more specifically - the exit.

"Logan," Xavier sighed, softly. He turned his attention back to the older looking man. "I understand your concern for Carolina's well being, Logan. Ororo and I feel the same way, make no mistake, and we will do what ever we can to help her through this."

Logan said nothing, just stared at the man in front of him, long and hard before turning suddenly, and making his way to the door of the office.

"Where are you going?" Ororo asked from behind him. "We're not finished, we still have to -"

Logan cut her off, glancing over his shoulder to look at her. She was standing up, hands on her hip with a questioning look on her face. "I think we are," he said simply and left the room without another word.

Ororo made a move to follow him, give him an earful, but stopped at the sound of her name being called.

"Leave him," the Professor said, and she turned to him, a look of exasperation on her face. The Professor was smiling sadly, eyes full of understanding

- - OoOoOoO - -

When Logan had left Chuck's office he'd intended to 'borrow' Summers' bike and head out, maybe leave the school for a couple of days, weeks to clear his head, away from all this chaos and try to get himself together. He could barely stand being in the school, everything about the damn place reminded him of….

Yeah, leaving for a while seemed to be a good idea at this point. Though he knew it wouldn't be fair to leave, especially now that the school was short staffed, but, he quickly reminded himself, he didn't belong to the X-Men and could come and go as he pleased.

But then why did he feel guilty?

The answer came to him in the form of a loud crash and a shriek. His ears perked up at the sound and he followed it, moving quickly up the stairs and, without even realizing it, he was standing outside of Gypsy's room and on the other side he could hear someone speaking.

_She's talking to herself_, Logan realized, but wasn't as surprised as he should have been - the kid did it often enough, especially when he had first picked her up, though she usually played it off whenever anyone was around or caught her. She didn't fool anyone, though, but to hear her now, without any interruption, was unsettling.

"I wish you would _stop_ saying that," he heard her snap, could hear the frustration in her voice. "You _alway_s say that and just because you repeat it so damn often doesn't make it true! Don't - don't you dare tell me to relax - it doesn't work, okay? I can't --" She cut away from her sentence abruptly and then laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, easy for you to say. You're not the one being talked about all the time. Now the adults are doing it too…."

Logan shook his head, he'd had feeling that someone had been eavesdropping on their conversation, but how she got upstairs so fast was beyond him.

"…they think I'm not right…" she continued on.

Listening to her speak felt like he'd walked in on her talking on the phone with someone but could only hear her side of the conversation. It was strange, and Logan had heard enough.

Raising his fist, he rapped on the door with the back of his hand, loud enough for her to hear. On the other side, everything went silent, but he could still hear her shuffling around. He sighed. "Kid, it's Logan. I'm coming in," he warned, turning the knob and pushing the door open.

He poked his head into the room first and found her pacing the floor, or rather, limping, in her socks and muttering quietly to herself, hand near her mouth. His eyes darted away from her to the room and he noticed that the nightstand beside her bed had been turned over, lamp lying on its side on the floor. That must have been the crash he'd heard earlier.

He looked back at the pacing girl. "Hey, squirt," he greeted, taking in her appearance and trying to trying to sound as normal as possible.

She was still in her pajama's - a pair of gray sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt - even though it was nearing lunchtime. Her curly brown hair was a mess, sticking out in different direction, probably from having her run her bandaged hand through it so many times. There were dark circles under her eyes, he noted, and wondered if Storm had been giving her anything to help her sleep.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, softening a little when they met his, but not by much. "Hi." She greeted back, but said nothing more.

He sighed again. It was going to be one of _those_ days with her. "How're ya feelin'?

She shrugged, resuming her pacing, even though there was barely enough room. "Like shit," she replied, honestly, glancing back at him through the corner of her eye. "Don't… look at me like that," she muttered, biting on her fingernails.

Logan raised a brow. "Like what?" He asked, genuinely confused. He was sure he hadn't been looking at her in any particular way.

Her face screwed up a little like she was about to cry, "Like that!" She said, rudely pointing at his face. She shook her head, "I liked the way you use to look at me before, like I wasn't…." She trailed off as if she realized what she was saying. Her face turned hard. "Everyone - they all look at me like that. Don't think I haven't noticed. They all think I'm too far gone to notice anything, but I do. I'm not stupid. I don't need pity. Not theirs and not yours!" She shouted, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and turned her back on him.

While she ranted, all Logan could do was stare at her in shock silence, though his face remained neutral. Since the time he'd met her, she'd never acted like this. The kid had said a few strange things here and there before the whole thing with Dark Cerebro, but now it just seemed….

"You think I'm crazy," she announced.

"Never said I did."

She shook her head as she turned around, poking at her temple with her index finger. "Didn't _have_ to say, just know that you _think_ so."

"You a mind reader now?"

"Might as well be."

"Look, kid, I don't think you're crazy," he told her again, trying really hard not to get her worked up. He didn't want a repeat of the incident that happened back in D.C. No one did. It had left everyone feeling emotionally drained, weak… it felt a whole lot worse than what Rogue had done to him in New York because he'd at least been able to pass out.

"Liar," she hissed through clenched teeth, and Logan just couldn't understand where all this anger was coming from. "Everyone thinks I'm crazy," she laughed, but no trace of humor could be found in it. "Gone off the deep end and off my crack."

The last statement she made caught him off guard and he felt close to laughing. "Off your crack?" He repeated, brow raised. Now that was an expression he hadn't heard in a long time.

She growled, narrowing her eyes at him. "Don't laugh at me. I'm not crazy," she all but shouted and held her head in her hand, though one was still in cast. "But denying that I'm crazy just proves that I am, right?" She looked at him questioningly, and Logan felt that he should get Storm or the professor. "Because… a crazy person doesn't know that they're crazy, but then… those that don't deny it and say they are, aren't because, because - ugh, that doesn't make any sense, what they hell was I saying? - _SHUT. UP. V_!"

That was enough, Logan decided, rushing forward as she started to pull at her hair. "Hey. Hey, hey! Come here - sit down." He grabbed her by the arms, mindful of her injuries when she winced, though they should have been healed somewhat by now, and steered her towards her bed and sat her down.

"I don't want to be like this," she told him, sounding so pitifully sad and looking down at her hands that now rested on her lap.

Logan picked up the nightstand and lamp. "I know," he said and sat down beside her.

There was a long stretch of uncomfortable silence and the tension was enough to choke him to death. It was a long time before either of them spoke again. Gypsy was the first to break the silence.

"He's dead, isn't he?" She asked, her voice just above a whisper. Logan could feel her shaking beside him. He turned his head to look her. Her eyes were watery. "Stryker," she finally said after some hesitation.

Logan nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She nodded as well, exhaling deeply and he suddenly felt… relieved? No, that couldn't be right… guilty?

"He said something to you, didn't he? Before he died… about me?" The kid tilted her head to the side, eyes roaming his face like she was looking for something, answers. "Something that's making you look at me differently…. A secret?"

This time Logan did look at away. How'd she know? She had said something about might as well being a mind reader… maybe if he steered clear of that, what Stryker had said -- Logan clenched his fists. He should tell her. And he would, but not now. Not while she was like this. He wouldn't be the one to drive her over the edge and fry her brain.

"Nothing you don't already know," he finally said.

She nodded, but he could tell that she didn't believe him, wasn't going to push and changed the subject.

"It's different now," she said, shoulders sagging as she stared straight ahead at a wall in front of them. She suddenly looked very tired and old for her age. "Before it was just… being able to feel what others were feeling, and that was enough for me, you know? Now it's…" she trailed off, blinked hard, and wiped her face quickly.

She was crying.

"Sorry," she murmured, sniffling a little. She seemed to notice his discomfort and brought a knee up to her chest, and hugged it close to hide her face. "It's just before…I couldn't do very much, just feel, but now it's so much more. Like when I close my eyes I can… see colors. I can see images of people, feel their thoughts," she picked up her head to look at him, and he suddenly felt very sad, his heart heavy, but he didn't know why. He didn't feel himself. "I know you miss her," she sniffed again.

_Jean_, he thought and a lump began to form in his throat.

"I miss her too," she confessed, grimacing a little. "But… she's not gone, not really. Not to me. I can see… feel her, sometimes. When it's … quiet in my head. I can almost -" she groaned suddenly, face screwing up, painfully with her eyes shut, tightly.

"What's the matter?" Logan asked, turning his body towards her.

She opened and closed her mouth, like she wanted to speak but nothing came out.

"Kid?!"

"My - my head," she started, voice quaking and, out of nowhere, he felt a sudden pressure in his own head. "My. Head. Is. Killing. Me!"

He cursed under his breath. Not again. He fell to his knees in front of her, torn between staying and getting someone. The latter won out "I'm gonna get Storm," he told her and quickly rushed out of the room, trying hard to ignore her screams and the farther he got from her room, the less anxious he felt, and just as he rounded a corner, he collided into someone, who stumbled back.

Bobby, he realized, and beside him was Rogue.

"Logan, what - ?" She began, but he quickly cut her off, not giving her time to fully ask her question.

"Go get Storm, or the professor," he ordered, looking between the two young mutants. When neither of them moved, he barked, "GO!"

Startled, Bobby took off in search of one of the adults, not really understanding what was happening, but knowing that it must be bad.

Logan turned to head back to Gypsy's room, Rogue following closely behind.

"What's going on?" She asked him as they made their way to the Empath's room.

Barely sparing her a look, Logan replied, "Gypsy," and Rogue understood what was happening. It was going to be D.C. all over again, and as soon as she walked through the threshold of the room, she felt something clutching at her chest.

Carrie was curled up into a ball on her bed, and she was crying silently now. Feeling this sudden ache, Rogue walked over to the girl and got on her knees beside her. "Oh my God," she breathed, and reached out to place a comforting hand on the girl's back, but was startled when she started screaming.

"Don't - don't touch me!" She cried, moving away.

Rogue shook her head, licking her chapped lips. "It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you - I've got my gloves on." She said, thinking that was the reason why the slightly younger mutant didn't want to be touched.

"I can't - I can't say the same -" she shook violently, "- for myself."

Rogue looked at Wolverine, helplessly.

"_Put your hands on her head_," a voice whispered to Logan and he whirled around to face the source, but found no one behind him. "_Put your hands on her head_," the voice repeated, more insistently this time. Logan hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was going crazy himself, and then stepped forward.

"Logan, I -" Rogue started, as he moved her away gently, but fell silent when he realized what he was doing.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," Gypsy chanted as Logan turned her over on her back and framed her face with his hands. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no…."

Logan felt this strange tingle surge through his body and swarm through his head, couldn't really explain what it felt like…. It hurt, but not as much as it did the time she had done this, when she wanted him to feel her fear…. No this was different. It was no wonder she was always worked up, there was so much going on.

He closed his eyes, but instead of seeing darkness behind his eyelids he saw colors.

"Move aside, Logan!" a voice from somewhere beside him ordered, bringing him back. He felt hands on his wrists, pulling him away and he finally let go of the young Empath and moved aside as Ororo moved forward and injected her with a needle. Gypsy seemed to far gone to even notice what was happening, didn't even put up a fight when the needle touched her skin like she usually did. "What happened?" Storm demanded to know as the kid went limp.

"Don't know," he answered truthfully with a shrug, trying to shake the awful feeling in him. "We were talking and then this… pain hit me, hard, felt like my head was gonna explode."

"Is she gonna be okay?" Bobby asked, staring at the sleeping figure.

Ororo smiled, tightly. "She'll be fine, just… let her sleep it off for now. She'll be back to normal in no time."

Logan shook his head at that. "Kid'll never be the same. Not after all this," and left the room without another word.


	3. Fleeting Feelings

**A/N:** Oh my goodness. Words cannot express how sorry I am that it has taken me so long to update this story! Two years! It makes me so sad. I lost my muse to write this story, but I recently watched the movie and new ideas began to form. I want to apologize and also give a big thanks to those who messaged and reviewed, telling me that they loved the story and wish for me to continue. I will do just that – continue! Hopefully chapter four won't take another 2 years! Also, I'm not very happy with the how the second half of this chapter came out, I may go back and rewrite it and if I do I'll let you know. So sorry again, and if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and review, I would be so happy! =)

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**Chapter Three:**

Fleeting Feelings

Everything was burning all around me.

I watched in horror as flames surrounded me, keeping me immobilized, blocking me from moving any further into my house. I was stuck, I realized, eyes searching for a safe route to take, but it was so hard to make anything out. It was so bright – the fire was so bright, and the smoke made things so much worse. My eyes watered, throat burned – I coughed violently.

I could feel the beads of sweat forming above my brow, rolling down the sides of my face. Flames licked at my skin, and I tried so desperately to keep calm, keep my breathing even but it was getting harder to breathe the more I stood there. I wrapped my bare arms around myself, trying to protect myself from getting burnt, but it was useless.

It was all around me.

I knew I would get burnt.

Sooner or later, everyone got burned.

A piercing scream from above me brought me out of my thoughts. It was the unmistakable scream of a girl. Irene, I thought heart filling with dread and I felt my face crumble. I continued to search for a way to get to her; all the while she continued to scream.

From outside, I could hear the sound of fire engines. Hurry, I thought. Please hurry!

Encouraged by the sound of the engines, I began to rush forward, up the stairs but as soon as I took a step forward, a fire-y beam fell over, blocking my way up.

The flames grew around.

Suddenly there were hands on me, arms wrapped around my waist and chest. Someone was dragging me away from the fire, pulling me away from the house, from my family.

"No, no, no!" I kicked, struggling to get away. "Mom! Irene! Michael!" I shouted, voice becoming hoarse. "Don't touch me – let me go – leave me, I have to go back for them!"

"_Stop struggling_," a voice whispered, and for a moment I went limp with surprise. "_Go. Let yourself be taken. Please_."

"No!" I cried out again, ignoring the voice, but my cries went unheard.

I felt a cold chill run through me as I was being dragged out of my house; a sense of fear and sadness overtook me. I struggled against the arms that held me tight, wanting to go back in to the inferno, but who ever it was holding me held on tight and didn't let go until there was some distance between the house and us. The person dropped me on the ground, and landed right beside me on hands and knees, coughing violently.

I looked over at the man beside me. I'd never seen him before in my life, but I could feel his relief at my being safe, and as if sensing my eyes on him, he looked at me with these sad, familiar eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a choking sound interrupted him. It was coming from me. I coughed violently, wrapping my hand over my throat. I let myself lay on the ground.

I felt hands on me again. "… Breathe, Carrie. C'mon!" Someone shouted from above me. I felt pressure on my chest. It didn't hurt too much, but it did feel uncomfortable. "Breathe!" I felt a pinch on my nose, mouth over mines and then suddenly my body jerked forward, liquid rising out of my throat. I sputtered, coughing violently and felt hands that helped turn me on my side, rubbed my back in comforting manner, "Breathe," the voice said softly, relief flooding them.

"Thank God!" A female voice shouted, voice breaking slightly.

Once I stopped coughing, I was gently rolled on to my back and, slowly opened my eyes. The sunlight blurred my vision; I had to squint slightly in order to see. I watched blurry forms surround me but I could only make out one, and my heart nearly stopped. "Michael?" I whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek with my hand. Confusion filled me, and it was hard to tell just whom the emotion belonged to. He placed his hand over mine, and I blinked, my vision now clear. It wasn't Michael, I realized, heart dropping. "Bobby," I corrected myself, closing my eyes in sadness, hand sliding away.

"That was really stupid," Bobby scolded, trying to sound upset with me but I could feel his relief that I was okay, that I was alive. I wish I could have felt the same way.

How long had I been down there? I wondered, tiredly, but didn't bother to ask – and I must have lost consciousness because when I opened my eyes again Bobby was no longer hovering over me. Instead I was lying on a soft mattress, staring at a plain ceiling.

My room.

Had I dreamt the whole thing?

I slowly sat up in bed, bringing a hand to my head – my hair was still damp. I looked down at my clothes, and to my horror, I found that someone had removed my wet clothes and replaced them with sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. Who had changed me?

"_Storm did_," V informed me. "_Bobby carried you down, and Storm changed you_."

I nodded, feeling relieved.

"_What were you thinking_?" V asked, not sounding very happy. "_Jumping into the pool like that– you know you can't swim; you could have died. You stupid girl, you could have died. You almost died_."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't…" I trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

It had been such a strange feeling. One moment I was fine. The next… I knew exactly what had been going through my head the moment I stood up by the pool. The unconscious decision I had made to just stay in the water, to not surface for air. At that moment, part of me wanted to die.

I shuddered, blinking my watery eyes. I had wanted to die.

"_You almost did. If it hadn't been for Bobby, and Jones – you would have died_."

I shook my head, rubbing the side of my face. "I'm sorry," I repeated, meaning it. I hadn't meant for it to get that far. I really didn't want to die. With everything I had been through, I deserved to live. But at that moment… there had been a desperate need to end it – my life. I had wanted to die, but now that I was safe in my room… I didn't.

Or was I just trying to convince myself that I was truly okay?

A knock at my bedroom door brought me out of my thoughts. I looked down at my attire, thinking I looked decent enough and called out, "Come in."

The door opened, and a familiar face peered into my room looking as scruffy as ever. "Hey, Squirt." He greeted, entering my room.

"Logan, you're back," I stated, feeling a tired smile spread across my face as I stood up. I had the sudden urge to hug him, but I refrained from throwing myself at him. Logan wasn't the affectionate type, and I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but I was so happy to see him, and vice versa, but there was something else… he was… disappointed with a confusing mixture of sadness and anger.

He shrugged a shoulder with a small smirk. "You know me, I couldn't stay away."

"Where'd you go?"

"I had to, uh," he began, and rubbed the back of his neck. "There was something I needed to do. Why, did you miss me?" He asked, changing the subject.

I allowed it to happen. "Me, miss you?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "Never." But we both knew that was a lie. He'd been gone for over a month. Ever since Jean's death he'd come and go, and would leave for long periods of time.

"How are you feeling?" He suddenly asked, and then everything made sense. Why he was feeling so strange. I had been the center of those emotions.

"I take it you heard then," I stated, dryly, deciding to take a seat on the edge of my bed.

He nodded, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. "Mind telling me just what the hell you were thinking when you jumped."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," I told him to get that out of the way. "I just… I just wanted some quiet."

He furrowed his brows and looked around my room. "You could have just come in here. That's what this room was designed for."

It was my turn to look around now.

Because of how my mutation was altered after Alkali Lake, Professor Xavier went to extreme lengths to make things as comfortable as possible for me. That included moving me downstairs to a room where the walls where made of steel. I was the only one in this part of the school, and though it may have sounded lonely to others – it was actually a relief. This was the only place I felt safe, felt myself. It was wonderful. And with the help of Bobby, Marie, Kitty and a few other friends, I was able to make the room homier.

"I hadn't really thought about it at the moment," I told him, truthfully. "The water was a last minute thing, but I'll remember that for next time." I decided to change the subject the way he did. "So where did you go?"

"Doesn't matter, not now, at least." He was hiding something- I could feel.

"Okay. How long are you going to be sticking around for?"

"Not long, heading back out in a few."

"So soon?" I felt my heart sink. "But you just got here, and I thought maybe we could… hang out for a bit, catch up. Have you even seen Marie yet?"

"Who do you think told me about your little… accident?"

I rolled my eyes. "Remind me to thank her later…" I told him, but I was just so tired, I couldn't even bring myself to be mad.

Logan sighed, and took a seat beside me. "Look, kid. I know that you've been having a hard time adjusting to your… mutation of yours, so I talked to Chuck about taking you out of here for a couple of days. What do you say? You wanna get out of here for a while?"

Where they kicking me out of the school? Was I really that bad? "Where would I go?" I asked, voicing my thoughts. I stared at him with concern.

"With me," he replied and that surprised me. "There's… somewhere I wanna take you."

"You're not gonna abandoned me in the woods are you?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"No," he gave a chuckle, ruffling my hair in the process.

"Okay." I agreed, thinking leaving the school for a while might do me some good, especially after I almost drowned in the pool.

"Good pack a small bag," he stood up and walked towards my bedroom door. "We're leaving in half an hour."


End file.
